


Dinner At The Parents

by PatPrecieux



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Dinner, Early in Canon, F/M, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 13:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17044397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: Sherlock cannot stop the inevitable, but he can certainly make it more interesting.





	Dinner At The Parents

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notjustmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/gifts), [ChrisCalledMeSweetie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCalledMeSweetie/gifts).



> Trust me when I say, you most certainly CANNOT imagine the Christmas dinners.

"Sherlock! Will you stop squirming like a two year old who needs the loo."

 

"I allowed you to kidnap me and forcibly place me in this vehicle but I do NOT have to be cooperative or enthusiastic, John.”

 

From the front drivers seat came a snort, "Like you ever are, you tosser."

 

The fourth passenger nodded his approval, "Quite right, Gregory, my little brother seems intent on creating as much chaos as possible before we have even entered the field of battle."

 

"Shut up Mycroft! I never expressed any interest in this horrid outing from the start. You can hardly be surprised that I am less than delighted."

 

"Brother mine, it is one day of your 'precious' time and Christmas. If you suppose I am, what is the common phrase, over the moon at the prospect of the next hours, you are mistaken. But they are our parents, we are bringing our lov...significant others, and you will behave yourself."

 

"You don't frighten me Mycroft. There's nothing you can do to make me."

 

The deceptively soft voice beside him make his hair stand on end, "That's true love, but I can. Do we understand each other?"

 

"Yes, John. Butyoustillcan'tmakemelikeit!!!!"

 

"Wouldn't dream of it, darling."

 

The car braked to a stop with a bit more force than necessary. "Alright mates, here we are. Holmes Cottage."

 

"Abandon all hope ye who enter here."

 

Three voices growled in unison, "Sherlock!"

 

***~~~***~~~***~~~

 

Even as they emerged from the car, John couldn't shake the ridiculous thought that the quaint country "cottage" DID put him slightly in mind of the Gingerbread House in Hansel and Gretel. Tempting on the outside with unseen terrors waiting inside the door. What was wrong with him?! He liked Sherlock's parents. His father was a sweet and gentle man who adored and, frankly, gave in to his wife's every whim gladly with a smile. And Mummy, John was sure she had a name but this was her anointed title, well Mummy was a complicated, brilliant woman who above all else fiercely loved and protected her husband and sons. 

 

As John considered this, the thought occurred to him that he was not so much entering a Gingerbread House as a lion's den. His musings were interrupted by the force of nature that was Mummy Holmes literally galloping out the front door. "My boys! Here you are at last, and John, Inspector welcome come in, come in."

 

Beside John, Greg whispered, "Think she means to fatten us up?"

 

John couldn't stifle a giggle. Seemed he wasn't the only one with outlandish ideas. He took Sherlock's limp hand and led them inside. He felt a brief stab of regret that Mycroft and Greg weren't yet ready to be quite so open in their affection, but he held out a romanticist's hope that they would find the courage soon.

 

"Timothy, they're here. Where have you got to you silly old man?"

 

Good naturedly, the white haired man with Sherlock's stunning eyes and cheekbones pulled his head from the fireplace and smiled. "Hello, hello! Sorry, but can't let the Yule Log go out, it's a royal decree around here you know."

 

The four men accepted his warm handshake more easily than they had Mummy's bone crushing hugs which pushed the breath out of all, leaving them gasping. Then the rituals began.

 

Eggnog was poured, not altogether unpleasant as it was laced with a fine aged whiskey, and then to the brothers' dismay, and Greg and John's glee, several family albums were passed around with an entire collection of photos of Christmas past designed specifically to "scar" both Holmes boys for life.

 

"Oh my god", Greg wheezed, "look at this one John. It's themselves in matching footie pajamas, drop door behind and all. And are those Candy Canes all over the flannel? What a sight!!"

 

"Gregory, for heaven sakes, I was barely nine, Sherlock just over two and it was ONE time. It haunts me to this day."

 

"Well I think you're both adorable. I bet John would like a copy."

 

Sherlock was scandalized, "They would never find your bodies." He jumped from his chair and, uncharacteristically, turned to his mother and said, "Mummy this is boring. Come along I'll help you set the table for dinner."

 

The others blinked dumbly. "Well, that's a first boys. My youngest has never been domestic to my knowledge. Best take him up on the offer, dear wife."

 

"I fully intend to. Now the rest of you, try not to drink all the eggnog, and Mycie, no phone calls to the Palace or anywhere else. I will know if you do, I have my own sources."

 

***~~~***~~~***~~~

 

For a potential mine field, the afternoon passed quite amicably with both John and Greg becoming more at ease with their surroundings and the two people responsible for their lovers being of this earth. The peace was broken only once when Mycroft and Sherlock made to step out for a breath of air with their mother nipping at their heels that she knew "damn good and well" that they were going out for a smoke. Something they now only seemed to do when visiting the family. Neither man denied it but went all the same. Therefore, the sound of Mummy's exasperated voice chastising her husband over some unknown slight went unheard.

 

When they were finally called into dinner, it was a glorious feast that awaited them. Greg had wanted to disappear when his stomach rumbled but Mummy appeared well pleased.

 

"That's what I like. Hungry men to appreciate my cooking. John I hope you're famished."

 

"Sherlock would tell you I'm always starving, and now is no exception."

 

Even Mycroft was impressed, "You have outdone yourself Mummy. A stunning repast."

 

"What about you, Sherlock? You will at least TRY to eat for me?"

 

Inexplicably, his response was, "You changed the tablecloth."

 

"Not exactly the answer I was expecting, dear, but yes. Your FATHER, decided to decorate the table further. Unfortunately it was with some of my homemade gravy. I hope the change of color scheme isn't off putting.The red is bolder but as nice as the pine green I think, don't you?"

 

At this point, John took Sherlock's elbow and steered him to their seats marked with clever name cards in the shape of Christmas Trees. "He's thrilled with your table. I can promise you."

 

***~~~***~~~***~~~

 

The meal was outstanding from beginning to end which consisted of a fine Christmas Pudding and a steaming Wassail Bowl fortified with a hard apple cider guaranteed to bring weaker men to their knees.

 

Mummy Holmes stood to survey her "brood" and announced, "Time for the crackers now. Everyone join in."

 

Sherlock sprang from his chair as if shot. "Mummy, we are all entirely too mature for childish games. Besides, we have a long drive ahead of us and none of us want someone falling asleep at the wheel."

 

Mycroft droned, "While I share your aversion to the foolishness involved in these trifles", he picked up the cracker between two fingers as if handling something that had recently died, "I wholeheartedly concur that any motor vehicle mishaps must be avoided at all costs. That is why we WILL make (sigh) Merry and allot ample time for a certain level of sobriety to return to our gracious 'chauffeur'. Let us proceed with the festivities. After you Mummy."

 

"Oh my no, dear. You and Sherlock have guests, the honour is yours. Inspector, as this is your first visit, please be the first with our Mycie. By the way", she was tittering now, "we ALWAYS make sure our guests win the prize by getting the big end. That is to say, Timothy that punch is quite potent. Off you go Mycie."

 

Had John not been distracted and amused by a slightly tipsy Mummy Holmes, he would have noted Sherlock was turning a shade of red and green that had nothing to do with the Holiday Season.

 

Mycroft and Greg pulled the cracker with a satisfying pop and, as predicted, Greg came away with the prize. Oddly, a small yet clearly expensive bottle of "My Sin" perfume.

 

Mummy glowed, "Let's hear the joke then, Inspoc..Inspuc...Inspac....GREG." More giggles.

 

Puzzled by the gift, Greg nevertheless gamely read the parchment. "Your favorite man will always tell you what a pretty little thing you are and promises to only buy you silk lingerie from now on." Greg blushed a furious crimson.

 

Mummy actually guffawed. "Well, Greg, seems somebody loves you. Isn't that right, Mycie?"

 

"Mummy, whatever do you mean?"

 

"Oh pull the stick out, poppet. I shouldn't have to remind you that of ALL the Holmes', your Mummy is the most brilliant of all. You and your dishy copper didn't fool Daddy and me for a minute. Oh, this IS fun! You next John, jump to it Locky."

 

John smirked, "Locky? I'm remembering that from now on. Our turn, sweetheart, pull me."

 

Sherlock had no choice and John came up with another expensive prize, a beautifully crafted sterling silver umbrella stick pin. Without being asked he began reading aloud. "The British Government has been reliably informed that you fancy tall redheads so one is being provided for your pleasure- tax free."

 

By now, Mummy was nearly doubled over with laughter. "Best dye your hair auburn then, Locky. Don't want your hunky soldier boy trolling the internet for gingers do you. Is it warm in here? No matter. Our turn Daddy, let's pop this tallywacker."

 

As Mummy came away with the larger end, Sherlock felt HIS end was fast approaching. Swaying slightly, she slowly repeated, "Later this evening, a handsome man will roger you on the table right between the leftover goose and the figgy pudding." She was beaming. "Fantastic! And look here, Daddy, a lovely little finger ring. It seems to have a small switch I wonder what..."

 

With a flick of the switch, the fingertip vibrator came to life eliciting a squeal from Mummy and a jerk that sent the device flying into the Wassail Bowl where it caused the mixture to froth until it resembled a rather large vat of cum. Mummy was now listing in her chair wiping tears from her eyes and trying to stifle hiccups.

 

Trying to salvage the moment, Timothy dead panned, "I believe we all need a cuppa."

 

***~~~***~~~***~~~

 

There was nary a word spoken as tea was consumed until finally Mummy regained her composure and addressed a very nervous audience. "Well, this has most certainly been the most interesting Christmas Dinner in our home for years. I assume, Sherlock, that we have you to thank for that?"

 

His silence was met with a none too gentle pinch to his bum from John, causing a squeaked, "Yes, Mummy. I meant no real harm. I was merely..."

 

"Yes, darling, merely being yourself and expressing your displeasure with our family get togethers. Well done on that front, dear. I'll not make you apologize, I will leave that to your companions. However, I believe the stick pin should pass to the Inspector for whom I suspect it was intended, and no offense, Mycie, but I must insist on retrieving the My Sin for myself as I know you prefer Aramis with its hints of leather and bergamot. I'll leave the lingerie discussion between the two of you."

 

She paused for effect briefly before turning her gaze on John. "Sadly, John dear, I fear you will need to procure your own remembrance of today as once it has been rescued from the remnants of my punch, the vibrator is staying with Daddy and myself. Contrary to what you have probably been told by my sons, we are still extremely active in the bedroom."

 

"Mummy!", both brothers groaned and sunk so low in their chairs they nearly touched the floor.

 

"Too bad for you, young man, as I imagine your John is quite creative with that type of thing. One more thing. As I said, I'll not demand an apology but I believe an explanation is in order. Inspector, would you care to oversee the interrogation?"

 

"Happily ma'am. Sherlock what was the idea?"

 

"Mummy always uses the same brand of cracker each year. It was a simple matter to obtain duplicates and alter the contents."

 

"How did you smuggle them in here?"

 

"John will tell you I don't have hidden interior pockets in the Belstaff just to hide tubes of lube and moist wipes."

 

John snarled, "Not helping yourself, brat."

 

Greg continued, "And the contents? Payback? Plain meanness? What?"

 

"Not entirely. It was becoming tedious keeping your secret with Mycroft from Mummy. It was my attempt to..."

 

"To out us before we were ready?"

 

"No! It's just, well the way John and I are...damn, it was just sad to see you not having that."

 

"Brother mine, I must say that's sweet in a strange sort of way, but unwise."

 

"Seeing that now. Sorry. To everyone. I had no way of knowing my plans would be undone by a bit of gravy. Obviously, the crackers were redistributed when the table was reset."

 

"Gregory, are you amenable to accepting his mea culpa?"

 

"Well, wrong plan, Myc, but good outcome...more or less."

 

"It was not my intention to embarrass you and Daddy either Mummy. I only wished..."

 

"I know dear, to make clear your perpetual horror for Christmas Dinners. I fear this has had the opposite effect however as I believe we shall expect to be entertained in a similar manner by you from now on."

 

***~~~***~~~***~~~

 

The light snores coming from Timothy Holmes was their clue to take their leave and soon the foursome was back on the road. Mycroft, having gone the entirety of the night before without sleep to free the time for family obligations, soon entered a deep sleep in the corner of the backseat. Next to him, Sherlock, said not one word, dreading the inevitable arrival back at Baker Street.

 

Behind the wheel, Greg concentrated on the hour or so drive while John kept up a steady patter about football and anything else that didn't involve the events of the night. Too soon for Sherlock's comfort, the familiar dark door came in sight. Greg drove off with Mycroft still asleep in the back and the residents of 221B made their way up to the flat.

 

Once their coats were off, Sherlock wasted no time in throwing himself on the mercy of his boyfriend. "Whatever you're going to do to punish me, John, I wish you would just get on with it. I know this is small solace to you, but I have suffered considerably already. I place myself at your judgement."

 

To his surprise, Sherlock saw John approach him with a soft look on his face and then place a gentle kiss on his lips. "Right, bad outcome for you today wasn't it? Bad luck about that little toy, might have been fun. Can't say I approve of your methods with Mycroft and Greg's relationship but I DO believe you meant well in a twisted sort of way. As for your parents, I think you were being a cheeky bugger, but it seems Mummy had the last laugh."

 

"So, you're not mad?"

 

"Not as such, after all, we had a smooth trip both ways, a wonderful meal and I most definitely wasn't bored. Doesn't mean I'm forgetting about this all together."

 

"So your verdict? Bread and water, no experiments for a month, no sex until spring? What?!"

 

"Sherlock. Shame on you. I will NEVER use sex against you like that, and when have I ever NOT tried to feed you? As for the experiments, that's just a fool's errand. You'd only go off and do them in the morgue or somewhere else, so no."

 

"There are consequences though?"

 

"Oh yes. I had a short talk with Mummy right before we left and we made up a list, here let me send it to your phone. There."

 

Sherlock's mobile pinged and he pulled up the message. It's dates. What are these, John?"

 

It a list of the days you and I will be available once a month for the next twelve months."

 

"Available for what?", Sherlock asked nervously.

 

"Should be obvious to a genius like you. Dinner at the parents."

 

"No, not that! John, I beg you!!"

 

"You'll be begging alright, posh boy, but for another reason. There's no goose and no figgy pudding but there IS about to be you on our table any minute now. Get your clothes off. I intend to pull your cracker until Boxing Day."

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of lighthearted nonsense for a December 17th that is a dark day for fandom everywhere. 
> 
>  
> 
> My "Grownup Christmas List" for each of you is Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas for those who celebrate, the best of times for everyone else, and the Happiest of New Years for all. Extra sugar plums to njm and Sweetie, the best presents I ever received. 🎁 🎁
> 
>  
> 
> Place a kudo or comment under my 🎄 and 🎅🏼 will put you on his, and my, nice list.  
> ❤️💚❤️💚 Pat


End file.
